Third of June
by GraceW
Summary: Molly Hooper has a birthday every year. However, this year Sherlock found out about it and decided to use it to his advantage. Little bit of pre-Sherlolly fluff and cuteness. Birthday present for themightyflea.


**A/N:** Hello! Before we start, I have some things to say. This is a birthday present for the superlative, amazing, and imaginative **Angie **_(themighyflea). _She is the Molly to my Sherlock, which means I take advantage of her brilliance more than I should and usually forget to tell her. It also means that we've been roleplaying and writing Sherlolly stories together. The former can be seen on The Convergence forum (the link is on my profile) and the later can be found as a story on Angie's profile (we're quite proud of that one). I took writing energy out of the squeal to write this, so I hope I'm not in trouble.

**A/N2: **For those that are timeline crazy like me, this takes place a year after John and Mary's wedding and assumes that everything is fine and ignores whatever season 4 will bring (when we get it). Also, flashbacks are in _italics_ if that doesn't make sense to anyone. This hasn't been beta'd or Brit-picked, so apologies on both of those fronts. Anyway, enough of the long author's notes. Enjoy the story.

**Third of June by GraceW**

* * *

Sherlock Holmes stood, almost awkwardly, in the doorway to St. Bartholomew's morgue laboratory. Not exactly out of the ordinary for him, but the thing in his hand made the difference. He held a single pink rose with a pink satin ribbon tied around it. The flower itself was young, just beginning to open, the pink contrasting with the framing dark green of the leaves. It was beautiful...if he paid attention to those sorts of things.

Sherlock felt slightly uncomfortable, and he really did not like that feeling at all. Why did he feel uncomfortable? However, there was a very good reason he was standing there, with a rose, on the third of June.

* * *

"_Hey, mister? Can I help ya?" The short freckled teenage girl asked as she walked up to him in the flower shop. Her dirty blonde hair was tied back in a high pony tail and her nametag said Melissa. _Seventeen, daughter of owner, budgie owner, casual boyfriend, likes to draw, one older sister, skipped lunch. _The deductions popped in his head as usual. He blinked once and then answered her curtly. "Yes. I need a flower." _

_The girl gave him a look but tried to be polite. "Anything in particular? Girlfriend problems? Or…boyfriend?" She raised an eyebrow. _

"_No…" Sherlock said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Simply a…friend?" That was odd, but it was the first word that came to mind. Didn't matter. Sherlock dismissed the thought. _

"_Well, here are some simple options." Melissa gestured to a small display in a refrigerated area. _

_Sherlock scanned the bouquets and flowers and after a moment's hesitation picked the pink rose. _

"_That's pretty. Pink is the color of admiration, gratitude and appreciation." Melissa said with a small smile. Why people insisted on making meaningless conversation was beyond him. She continued, looking up at him. "Is that all? I can ring you up."_

"_Yes, that is all."_

* * *

Sherlock Holmes was standing in the doorway of St. Bartholomew's laboratory, holding a single pink rose.

Molly Hooper was sitting next to the microscope, staring at Sherlock with a confused expression. It took her a few seconds of staring and a couple tries before she finally spoke. "Sherlock?"

"Yes, Molly. Hello." Sherlock said at last. He paused as he took a few steps towards her. "It's your birthday."

"Umm…" Molly's jaw dropped. She snapped it closed. "Yes…it is. How…"

"How did I know?" Sherlock finished her question. "Mrs. Hudson and John had a rather boring chat yesterday."

* * *

"_Yoohoo! Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs, bringing her usual tea tray. _

"_We're here, Mrs. Hudson." John called from his chair. Sherlock sat at the microscope and didn't answer. Mrs. Hudson plus John in a chatty mood meant he'd have to filter a lot of witless babble, like usual. _

"_Oh, John. Glad to see you here. Is Mary away?" _

"_Yes, she's out. A friend wanted to meet little Josie." _

"_Aw, the baby__…." Sherlock tuned out the rest of Mrs. Hudson's baby rambles. Until… "…sign Molly's birthday card. She has to work on her birthday, how sad."_

"_It happens." John said. "I'll bring it around tomorrow after Mary signs it. Thanks, Mrs. Hudson."_

_Sherlock noted the conversation and went back to his experiment._

* * *

"You…you brought me a flower…for my birthday." Molly looked doubtful, and still confused.

"Yes, I thought that was fairly obvious." Sherlock said in the usual manner. He took a few more steps into the lab. Molly's lab assistant, _Debbie? Diane? Dotty?, _gave him a look before skirting out the door, mumbling something about a coffee break.

Molly blinked once before a big smile replaced the confusion. "Sherlock." She said with the little giggle females did when they were experiencing happy emotion. "I…I..don't know what to say. A rose? Really? I mean, you're you and you don't do…" She trailed off, her smile fading slowly. "You want something. Don't you?" She shifted back on the stool, her shoulders sagging and her face falling completely.

"Well…" Sherlock was about to explain when she interrupted him.

"I knew it." Molly slid off the stool. "Let's see what I can find." She brushed past him without meeting his eyes. "I can get you another head if you'd like."

"Molly, I…"

She interrupted again as she headed for the morgue storage units. "Or I have the right hand of a construction worker saved. You mentioned something about one a few months ago."

"Its…"Sherlock followed her closely, the rose still in his hand.

And again, she kept going. "I can see what else I can do. We just got a fresh one in, I just finished him. Heart attack, male aged 44."

"Molly, stop talking." Sherlock said, annoyed at all the interruptions.

Molly turned her head, her pony tail whipping around as her eyes met his. "Sorry. What?" She clenched her hands in front of her, nervous gesture.

"Yes, I came by to pick up more samples. I also assumed that spending your birthday working would not leave you in the best of moods; apparently people don't like that sort of thing. So in an attempt to help ease your day along and appease you, I bought this."

She tilted her head, her expression now back to confused. "Sherlock, what are you trying to say?"

He paused, looking down at the flower in his hand and feeling uncomfortable again. "I'm trying to say: Happy Birthday." Sherlock held out the rose towards her. He gave her a small sheepish smile and waited a beat before asking. "Can I have the hand?"

Molly laughed a soft, almost melodious, sound. She tentatively reached for the flower, accidentally touching his fingers as she took it from him. She then blushed a pink that rivaled the rose's satin ribbon. "Thank you." She smiled brighter. "And yes of course, I'll get it right away." She looked at the flower again and then handed it back. "Can you…?"

"Yes." Sherlock said, interrupting her this time. He turned around and went back to the lab. Scanning the options, he picked out a glass 50 milliliter granulated cylinder and filled it at the sink. He placed the rose inside and then put it on the bench top near where she had been working. He frowned, unhappy with how it looked, and pulled the ribbon off of the rose. Sticking his tongue out in concentration, he began tying it around the top of the makeshift vase instead. And that was in that position that John found him.

* * *

"_Mrs. Hudson! I'm going to St. Bart's! Do you know where Sherlock went?" John poked his head in the landlady's door. _

"_No, dearie. He mentioned something about shopping and then was out the door and in a taxi before I could blink. He's always rushing about. I barely notice anymore." Mrs. Hudson said, looking up from the pan she was stirring. _

"_As usual I suppose. I'm bringing the card by for Molly and then going home. I'll see you later."_

* * *

John Watson stood in the door way to the morgue lab. He was holding a yellow enveloped birthday card and blinking his eyes at the strange scene in front of him. "Sher-"

John was interrupted by Molly's entrance. The pathologist held a transport container that held the unfortunate person's hand that now belonged to the world's only consulting detective. "Sherlock, I…Oh, hello, John." Molly shifted as she put the box down and then twisted the end of her long pony tail nervously.

"Hi Molly." John said, but kept his eyes on the detective who was straightening the bow on the glass of the cylinder. "Um, happy birthday." He handed her the card.

"Thank you!" Molly said, flashing him a smile and taking the card. She held it loosely in her hand and looked at her name on the front of the yellow envelope. "Sherlock was just here to pick something up." She tried to explain, sparing the detective a glance, but her eyes lingered.

"Yeah, I see that…" John trailed off. "Sherlock, I'm going to go wait in the lobby, so we can share a taxi."_ Unspoken understanding: we need to talk about something._ The doctor gave them both another confused look before heading out the door.

Molly turned back to Sherlock, the card still in her hand and a smile still on her face. "That looks nice." She said, taking a few steps closer, gazing at the rose before looking back to him. "Thank you."

Sherlock noticed the dilated pupils, the blush on her cheeks, and the soft smile she gave him. He blinked twice and then answered. "I suppose I should say you're welcome?"

Her smile widened. "Yes, you can, if you'd like." Instead of letting him speak, she stood up on her tiptoes and reached up a hand to his coat collar to pull him down. She placed a soft kiss on his cheek and then let him go. "Now, I've got work to do. Thank you for the rose, I hope you enjoy the new experiment." Her smile shifted slightly into a smirk and she moved around him back to the microscope. She settled into her work again without hesitation, ignoring his presence there.

Sherlock watched her when she couldn't see him, trying to understand what had just happened. Eventually he turned back to the door, grabbing the transport container on the way. He paused just as he was pushing the door open. "Happy birthday, Molly."

Sherlock Holmes didn't give her the chance to respond, but was out the door and on his way to a confusing conversation with his best friend. As he was walking away, he caught a glance at her through the window. Molly Hooper smiled brightly and her fingers unconsciously played with the end of the pink satin ribbon.

* * *

**A/N:** And that's all folks, hope you liked it enough to leave a review (and wish Angie a happy birthday!). ;)


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